"I ain't hearn about it," said Jasper.
"Yes, they had a right sharp time," Laz drawled. "Andy, he died."
"What Andy?"
"Andy Horn."
"Did you ever?" Margaret declared.
"What ailed him?" Jasper asked, showing increased interest.
"Got cotched in a saw mill. Ma'm," he added, looking at Margaret without
turning his head, "I reckon you hearn about old Aunt Sis Garrett?"
"Not a word."
"Fell down day befo' yistidy an' broke her hip."
"Why," said Margaret, "you didn't tell us yistidy at meetin'."
"Wall, I had suthin' else on my mind at the time. When things git to
pushin' around in my mind, I jest let one thing crowd out another."
"Fell down and broke her hip," Margaret mused aloud.
"Yes'm. Runnin' fitten to kill herse'f at the time. Can't run so mighty
brisk, you know, bein' old an' sorter rheumatic, but she done the best
she could. I seed a old feller a runnin' once, an' I says--"
"But here," Jasper broke in, "ain't she old enough to know better'n to
run fitten to kill herse'f?"
"Yes, suh, but she had to run on this here occasion.
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